


Date Night

by toasterness



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, But He Loves Ryan, Established Relationship, Graphic Depiction Of Violence Is Very Quick, Honestly This Is Purely Self-Indulgent, Kidnapping, M/M, Michael Jones Is Bored, Nor Will I Ever, Rescue, Ryan Haywood Is Sassy, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toasterness/pseuds/toasterness
Summary: The one thing they don’t warn you about when climbing the ranks in the criminal underworld is that you’re more than likely going to wake up tied to a chair in a dim, smelly room more than once.OrDate night goes wrong and Ryan is mildly annoyed.
Relationships: Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Date Night

The one thing they don’t warn you about when climbing the ranks in the criminal underworld is that you’re more than likely going to wake up tied to a chair in a dim, smelly room more than once. Or, in the case of the Vagabond, much more than once. If he had to guess, he’d say he was on kidnapping number twenty two?

You lose count after a while.

Ryan wouldn’t have been so upset about it, really, if said kidnapping hadn’t been smack dab in the middle of date night. He was willing to give credit where credit was due – it’d been a while since the last time he was nabbed – but there was no excuse for ruining a perfectly good outing with his partner. Besides, holding hands and walking through the golf course at sunset was hardly grounds for an attack! Never mind that they’d spent the first half of their date slashing all the tires on parked police cars just for the hell of it; there really was no honor among thieves anymore, was there?

Testing out the strength of his bonds, Ryan pulled against the ropes wrapped around his arms that held them behind his back and the identical ones that strapped his legs to the chair. They were snug, not quite painful, but he’d experienced much worse. Hell, he still had that scar from the time the cops deemed it necessary to tighten his cuffs enough to cause his hands to go numb. At least now he could still feel his extremities.

A soft noise came from behind him as he shifted around; Ryan stopped moving in order to hear better and identify the source. It sounded suspiciously like snoring.

“Michael?” He inquired in a whisper.

Whoever it was grumbled in their sleep, their voice much too low to be Michael’s. Ryan sighed; whoever it was that had taken him couldn’t even bother to get a proper guard and he was mildly insulted. He resigned himself to slowly working on getting his hands out of their bonds while waiting for someone else to show up.

It didn’t take long; within a couple minutes of waking up, the door to the room swung open and a rough looking man with unnaturally platinum blonde hair sauntered in closely followed by two other men who looked like they’d seen their fair share of brawls.

Whoever had been snoozing behind Ryan woke with a loud grunt and shot to their feet. “Boss! I wasn’t sleep-”

“Shut the fuck up, Rick,” growled the large man in front of Ryan. “Get outta my sight before I decide to tie you up next to our friend here.”

Rick seemed to think that was a pretty bad scenario – he booked it out of the room with a string of ‘ _sorry boss_ ’s flying behind him, slamming the door shut.

The ‘Boss’ turned to sneer at Ryan as his two lackeys moved to flank the chair, their looming presence only just registering on the gent’s radar. “Glad to see you’re awake,” he mocked. “For a minute there I thought we were gonna have to hit you again.”

Ryan suddenly became aware of a dull ache on the side of his head, the sticky feeling of dried blood making itself known when he opened his mouth to respond. “Once is enough, thanks.”

“It’s been a while, Vagabond!” The other man changed the subject without acknowledging Ryan’s retort. “Seems like just yesterday we were shooting at each other out in Sandy Shores.”

“Uhhh, no offense, but who are you?”

For a second, the other man didn’t react. Then, slowly, his mouth went from a cocky grin to a deep scowl. “Simon Rockfield – you shot my cousin, remember? Not that I minded too much since he was a dick and I wanted his job anyway but it’s the principle of the thing.”

And no, Ryan most assuredly did not recognize this guy. He squinted up at him from the chair. “Look, loads of people want me dead or otherwise, so how am I supposed to remember every single one of them?” At Simon’s deepening frown, he continued. “Sorry about your cousin though, I guess.”

Simon stared at him for a moment longer before tipping his head back and loudly laughing, his arms wrapping his stomach. When he finally finished, an arrogant smile graced his features once more. Then, out of nowhere, he reared back and slapped Ryan hard across the cheek with enough force to almost tip the chair over.

“I sometimes forget how charming you Fakes are,” he rambled. “Though I’d always thought you to be the more quiet type, what with the mask and all.”

Ryan chuckled despite his face stinging from the hit. “Eh, that’s no fun.”

Speaking of the eponymous black skull mask, Simon held it up in front of Ryan’s face as if to mock him. “At least I finally get to see what you actually look like.” He tilted his head a little. “I’m a bit surprised, actually; didn’t think you’d be so pretty.”

“I’m already spoken for, but thank you.”

Simon scoffed. “I’m not even a little bit interested, Vagabond – that angry wolf of yours can have you all to himself for all I care. Though, when I’m through with you, I’m not so sure he’ll be interested either.”

Ryan might have been worried if he wasn’t finding this whole situation so funny. With a short huff of laughter, he cracked his neck and settled back into his chair as much as the ropes would allow. When he let out a large yawn, Simon dropped the arm holding out the mask and glared at him.

“What exactly _are_ you going to do to me anyway?” Ryan asked with clear indifference.

“Well,” Simon started, a glint back in his eyes. “I’m gonna start by sending out a photo of your lovely face to the media so that the whole damn city knows you – unless your crew can come up with a high enough number to placate me. Then I’m thinking about maybe roughing you up a bit? Maybe send out some feelers to see if any other crews have some grudges they’d like to settle and pick the one with the highest bid. Who knows! I’ve got time to decide.”

Before, when Ryan was still working by himself, he might have actually been concerned about the whole ruining of his anonymity thing, but now that he was with the Fakes he held none of that fear; he had his whole family there to keep him safe, not to mention some of the best and most devious hackers in the country in Gavin and Matt, who could practically erase him off the face of the planet if it was called for. Hell, they’d probably already tracked him down and were on their way already. He had no doubt in his crew’s capabilities – or their penchant for heavy retaliation when dealing with people who made the grave mistake of messing with them.

As if he’d telepathically sent out a distress signal, Ryan heard a noise in the distance, like shouting but muffled and mixed with dull thuds, and knew that the others were there already. Simon appeared to have not heard and was still rambling on about everything he planned on doing.

Ryan couldn’t help but interrupt him with a snort; who did this idiot think he was dealing with?

That earned him a glare. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking how funny it is that you actually believe you’re getting out of this alive.”

Simon jeered. “You seem to be forgetting that you’re the one tied to a chair, Vagabond.”

“It’s not _me_ you have to worry about,” Ryan explained with a wide, cocky grin.

With a loud bang, the door to the small room burst inward and slammed against the wall.

Simon was the first to fall under an absolutely irate Michael Jones, shotgun blasting a messy hole straight through his head before the surprised man barely had a chance to turn around. Moments later and the two other men in the room – who had unsuccessfully tried to retaliate – lay bleeding out on the floor, similar gaping wounds in their chests bleeding profusely onto the ground. It was an efficient attack, barely a challenge at all for the Wolf of Los Santos, and took no longer than ten seconds. Ryan didn’t do anything except fold his hands in his lap and watch, the ropes formerly binding his wrists long since untied and simply gripped in his hands while Simon monologued.

Now done with what he came to do, Michael stood staring at his work, breathing not elevated in the slightest and expression bored; he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Sorry I’m late.”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth twitched up as he observed his partner. “What kept you?”

Michael wiped a splatter of blood off his face with one gloved hand and waved the gun in his other around in the direction of the bodies on the floor, his face the picture of nonchalance. “Traffic on Del Perro was especially bad tonight.”

“Mn.” Ryan rubbed absentmindedly at his wrists.

“I see you took care of yourself,” Michael accused, no actual heat behind his words. “Never crossed your mind to help?”

Ryan smiled slyly at his partner. “Nah, I prefer to watch you work.” He stood and walked over to Michael, hands gently grasping his hips and bending down slightly to kiss him, breaking away just enough to murmur against the other man’s lips. “You’re really hot when you’re in your element, you know that?”  
“Shameless,” Michael retorted before shoving Ryan lightly. A slight red tint to his cheeks gave him away though.

“You know you love it,” Ryan said with a blinding smile.

The younger man didn’t bother with a verbal response, just grabbed Ryan’s hand and tugged him out of the now blood-covered room. Ryan couldn’t help the happy warmth that bloomed in his chest at the feeling of that callused hand in his; no matter what, he knew he could count on Michael to have his back and to always come for him when shit went down. It was the foundation of their relationship, that trust, and it had never once failed them.

Michael finally spoke again once they had exited the small warehouse Ryan had been held in. “I know it’s date night but I could really use a shower, so let’s just head home, yeah?”

“Sure,” Ryan agreed as he kissed a spot on Michael's cheekbone that didn’t have blood on it. “I’ll even help you get that brain out of your hair.”

A look of disgust crossed over Michael’s features. “There’s brain in my hair? That’s fucking disgusting.”

“Occupational hazard,” Ryan laughed, spotting and steering them towards Michael’s chrome Adder. “Now come on, it’s cold out here.”

Michael sniffed and grumbled under his breath as they walked. “Better clean the rest of me too, since this was all your fault.”

Not bothering to argue that he couldn’t really be blamed for being kidnapped, Ryan squeezed Michael’s hand in concession before climbing into the passenger seat.

Maybe date night wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write another kidnapping fic? Maybe.
> 
> Will I ever stop writing kidnapping fics? Probably not.
> 
> Honestly, at least this one is angst-free, unlike the others. I just wanted to write something silly and this popped into my head, so I got it all down finally and posted it. Thanks Jaysta for putting up with my late night texts of incoherent and rapid-fire bullshit <3
> 
> Anyway, come yell at me on [Tumblr](http://toasterness.tumblr.com), I swear it's at least an ok time.


End file.
